The Costume Mistress
by ATimeLord'sKitty
Summary: Sarah was a young Costume Mistress apprenticed to the Opera House. After Piangi's death, she is forced to stay, as her apprenticeship is not yet up. She comes across the mysterious Phantom- the same that left her those notes long ago requesting costumes for Christine. Follow her as she wonders : can trust the mysterious mask? ((COMPLETE))
1. The Accident

Sarah was alone.  
The Opera House was empty now, save for her. After the murder of Piangi, everyone had fled, Monsieur Andre and Firmin swearing they would sell it.  
But word had spread.  
It wasn't as though she wished to be there, she couldn't leave. It had all started after "Don Juan Triumphant."

((flashback))

"Senora Carlotta, please, I know you're upset… but you really must go home!" Sarah begged with the rather portly Prima Donna as she sobbed hysterically in her dressing room.

"No, non voglio lasciarlo!" Carlotta screeched.

"Senora, I know how you must be feeling-"

"NO! Do not try to empathize with me!" Carlotta picked up a rather large porcelain vase and in anger, threw it at Sarah.

It hit her and shattered, sending Sarah into unconsciousness.

Gasping as she saw what she had done, and seeing blood pool around Sarah's head, Carlotta began yelling for a manager.

"Senora, are you alright?" Running in came Monsieur Andre, stopping as she saw Sarah on the floor. "What on earth happened?"

"She was lifting the vase, and it slipped…" Carlotta lied quickly.

Running to her, Andre called for Firmin, who came quickly. Removing his suit jacket, Firmin pressed firmly in an attempt to staunch the blood flow.

Andre looked over his co-manager's shoulder. The wounds were quite nasty, a large gash passed over her left eye, and a few more scattered across her cheek.

Firmin left to fetch a policeman, (of who there were plenty after the botched attempt to catch the Phantom) and they carried the unconscious girl to the home of the doctor.

"Does she have any relatives, Monsieur?" After the wounds had been bandaged, and Sarah was yet to gain consciousness, the doctor turned to Andre, who had stayed.

"No, I'm afraid not, sir- or at least none I'd feel comfortable leaving her with. According to Monsieur Lefrevre, the girl was apprenticed to the Opera house three years ago. Her father is a terrible drunk, and her mother died long ago. She is an exceptional seamstress, so Firmin and I decided to promote her to head Costume Mistress." He sighed, looking down at Sarah. "And I'm afraid she'll have to stay at the Opera House, despite the danger."

The doctor nodded slightly. "Ah, a terrible thing."

Author's Note

_So, what do you guys think? Review, favorite, whatever you do. I'll be adding more chapters soon. The idea came to me after reading several fan-fictions, and I decided to write my own. I play the Costume Mistress in my school's performance, so I decided to use that character._


	2. The Awakening

Sarah's eyes began to flutter open. She groaned softly. "What…"

The doctor stood over her. "Oh, you've awakened. You had quite an accident there… do you feel well enough for visitors?"

Sarah nodded slightly, actually quite unsure.

The doctor exited, and Carlotta entered, flouncing in, tears wallowing on her fat cheeks. "La mia piccola sarta, Suzanne-"

"Sarah."

"Si, Sarah, I was so worried when you dropped that vase…"

"What?"

Carlotta got very close to Sarah, her face inches from her unblocked eye. "Si, I did not throw a vase. You dropped it."

Sarah could only nod.

A few hours later Sarah was returned to the Opera house, where she returned to the small room she had, which was once a dressing room. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin came to speak with her.

"Miss Eklund, you are aware the Opera is being sold…" Firmin began.

"…and I have to stay here, don't I?" Sarah concluded.

"I'm afraid so." Andre finished.

Sarah nodded slowly. "Not much use any more though, am I?"

Andre placed a hand on her shoulder. "Now, I'm sure whoever buys the Opera next will be very lucky to have you working for them."

But two months later, here Sarah was, still alone.

_Author's Note_

_Alright guys, here's chapter two... _

_Eklund is Sarah's last name. It has Danish origins, and it means Elk Forest. Nice, huh?_

_Review, Favorite, Follow... it fuels me!_


	3. The Mirror

Sarah walked carefully to the door of the Opera. Monsieur Andre (bless him,) left a basket of food there every week, and today was the day she was to pick it up.

As she walked to the door, she decided to cut across the stage. She had been forbidden from doing this previously, as she was not to be seen on stage except during dress rehearsals, but she found no reason to do this now.

As she stood on the stage though, she immediately wished she had not. Here… she remembered this spot. This was where she was told to go comfort Carlotta… observing another spot, she remembered this was where she stitched up the hem of the Prima Donna's skirt.

Walking quickly offstage, she resumed her brisk pace toward the door. She picked up the basket, leaving the empty one from last week.

As she walked once again through the halls, she heard rats scuttle in the wall. Turning up her nose slightly, she frowned and walked quicker, admiring how her steps echoed in the long hallway.

At the end of the hallway sat a mirror. Catching sight of her reflection in the glass, she jumped, her wayward veil showing the horrid scars. She adjusted it slightly, and her scars no longer showed.

As she turned around to walk through another hallway, she felt something cold and long press to the back of her head.

"As you can tell, there is a pistol now aimed at the back of your head. I suggest you answer my questions."

_Author's Note_

_Who is this mysterious stranger? Oh, you probably guessed, seeing as how this IS a P.O.T.O fic..._

_Hello PhanGirls and PhanBoys! Updates will come probably everyother weekday, as I have a studyhall. I've gotten my first review, (thank you Spirit of the Opera) and now my social studies teacher is reading my story! So, review, favorite, follow, or all of the above. Thanks a ton, guys!_


	4. Remembering

"Yes sir." Sarah replied, a small tremor in her voice.

"Who are you?" the voice was hard and cold, and there seemed to be a break in between each word.

"My name is Sarah Eklund, I am the Costume Mistress." Sarah replied, attempting to turn. This earned her another jab with the pistol.

"Do not turn. Why are you here? Why didn't you leave?" the Voice demanded once again, and Sarah could hear just a tiny bit of fear, maybe confusion in the voice.

"I cannot leave."

"Why?" the voice softened just a small bit, but not dramatically.

"I am apprenticed to the opera house." Sarah replied, feeling the gun lower.

"You may turn around now." The voice stated.

Sarah turned around cautiously after making sure her veil was in place.

The man facing her was very tall. He towered above her, and his posture screamed threatening. He was wearing what looked like an expensive French suit, but the cape he was wearing hid it somewhat. But what stole Sarah's breath and made her gasp, what truly made her eyes widen, was the mask.

The man wore a white half-mask, so white it caught the few rays of sun reaching into the dark hallway and shone.

And she had seen it before.

But before Sarah could say anything, before she could even call out, the man was gone. He disappeared in a flurry of gray smoke, leaving Sarah alone in the dark hallway. She picked up the rolls and cheese that had rolled out of the basket, then started back to her room, shivering slightly.

She sat the basket down on her desk, then began pulling out the drawers. She pulled out dressmaking patterns and pins, throwing them all over…searching… searching…

Laughing triumphantly, she retrieved a series of notes, pinned together with a straight pin.

Sitting cross-legged, her modesty forgotten, she began to reread them.

"Dear Young Seamstress

As you might have heard

I wish Miss Daae to play the Countess.

The Managers won't obey

But I ask you to make another dress

Like Carlotta's, only six sizes smaller."

The other notes were similar, each addressed to "Young Seamstress", requesting that she duplicate Carlotta's costume for Christine Daae.

Then one of the notes was signed with a drawing, a drawing of the same mask she had seen on the man.

_Author's Note_

_So, here is chapter four. I briefly considered making the man with the gun Raoul or something just to troll you, but I decided not to._

_Also, I attempted to make the note fit with the song, but it was tiresome, so I didn't._

_Review, favorite, follow, all of the above... oh, and send me oreos. I like oreos._


	5. The First Note

Sarah fingered the papers slightly, remembering the first time she had heard of the Opera Ghost.

FLASHBACK

"Rose, I doubt that very much…" Sarah was spending a few minutes fixing a skirt on an impatient ballet girl.

"But I swear, its true!" squealed Rose, the girl at the ballet bar.

"Like I said, I doubt very much that the infamous 'Opera Ghost' is snatching stray pins." Sarah stuck in the needle, almost stabbing the ballet girl. "Oh, I do apologize…."

Another ballet girl, Emily, began to step menacingly towards the littlest member of the Ballet Corps: Abby. "Oh…. But that's how it starts, Abby… First he snatches your pins, as a warning! Then he moves on… to your head!" Grasping her throat dramatically, Emily rolled to the floor, twitching a few times, and then lolled her tongue out.

"Emily! You'll frighten her!" Sarah scolded the ballet girl on the floor.

Smirking, Emily began to recite the dance for the night's performance.

"There, all finished." The ballet girl gave a few practice steps, then nodded. As she spun away, Abby walked over to Sarah. Despite being the same age as Sarah, Abby had lived a very sheltered life and acted much younger than her seventeen years.

"Sarah, is the Phantom real?" Abby asked, her small voice wavering.

Sarah didn't answer her. "_Is he?" _she asked herself. _"Could it be..."_

The first note had appeared that evening, just moments after Monsieur Andre, Monsieur Firmin, Raoul, Carlotta and Madame Giry recieved notes as well.

_Author's Note_

_Here it is guys! Please excuse the use of non-French names, I'm rather terrible at names..._

_and a big thank you to Savannah White, who sent me a basket of Oreos._

_Questions, Comments, Reviews, More Oreos, you know where to send them. __Review, Favorite, Follow!_


	6. Watching from the Shadows

A week had passed since Sarah's brief meeting with the Phantom. She had started to push the occurrence to the back of her mind, attributing it to fatigue and perhaps paranoia.

However, as she returned the basket today to retrieve the filled one, someone was watching from the shadows.

Erik didn't know what to think of the girl. Or perhaps it was a woman, he couldn't quite tell with the veil on. Now that he thought of it, perhaps it was a bit odd she wore the face-covering. Perhaps it was a new fashion- he never quite bothered to keep up on it.

He shouldn't have stayed at the Opera House. After his beloved Christine had run off with The Vicomte, he had momentarily disappeared, but he felt a certain connection with the old Opera. So he stayed.

But this girl- she stayed as well. He would have had the entire halls to himself, to be able to roam as he liked, but there was always the chance he would run into her. Sarah. That was her name. Apparently she was a Costume Mistress… he never paid much attention to the Costume Mistresses, they were all flighty… except for one girl, the head Costume Mistress- which must have been her!

Erik felt a small surge in his chest, a feeling he thought Christine had taken from him. This girl was the same one who had sewn the dresses for his beloved operas, the same one he had left notes for- a prodigy, she was.

Stepping from the shadows, making hardly a noise, Erik stepped out into Sarah's path as she returned.

Startled, she jumped back, a roll tumbling out of her basket, landing right by the Phantom's foot.

Swiftly, Erik retrieved it, holding it out to Sarah.

_Author's Note:_

_Nothing says friendship like a roll!_

_As you can see, I post a few chapters at a time, because my chapters are short... _

_Reviews, Comments, Questions, Ideas, Oreos, you know where to send them!_

_((Don't worry, there will be NO OCxPhantom.))_


	7. The Second Note

Trembling, Sarah stood on the spot as the Phantom held out the roll. She took it slowly. The man's face, (or at least what she could see of it) held hardly any emotion, but his eyes had a small gleam of amusement.

"I…I know who you are." She said at last. "And… I know what you're going to do."

"Is that so?"

"Yes… you're going to kill me, aren't you- scare away future buyers with my corpse?" Sarah's voice trembled almost as much as her form.

"No." The Phantom replied. "I need you to sew something for me. I shall return."

Then, just like that, the Phantom was gone, leaving Sarah and her basket.

Sarah walked back to her room, too shocked and scared to run. Picking up the notes again, she read the second one.

"Dear Young Seamstress

Miss Daae will be requiring a dress for the Masquerade. Attached you will find plans. I ask you not to inform anyone of where the order came from, as they will think you mad, or perhaps even my accomplice.

My Regards,

OG"

Sitting quietly, she remembered back to Miss Daae.

((FLASHBACK))

It was during a rather busy recital, or rather the break thereof, when Sarah approached Madame Giry quite timidly and asked if she may be allowed to see Christine Daae.

Madame Giry gave Sarah a stare that would frighten any Ballet girl. "Might I ask why?"

"I cannot say." Sarah replied, remembering the threat the note had stated.

Madam Giry seemed to deem this appropriate. Sarah would only later learn that Madame Giry had in fact been told of the entire plot for Christine's dress, should the young Costume Mistress prove unworthy of a secret.

"Miss Daae?" Sarah called softly, walking over to where Christine sat, staring off into space.

"Madame?" Christine asked, and Sarah blushed as she realized she had surprised her. "Oh, hello, Sarah!"

Sarah curtseyed low, a skill she had newly acquired. "I have a gift for you, I made it myself…"

Christine's face lit up, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, really?"

Sarah retrieved the dress. It was beautiful, to say the least. The dress was a light pink with gold edging. A light cape stretched across the back, and feathers gave it the appearance of a beautiful, delicate bird.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Christine gasped, almost afraid to touch it.

Sarah blushed again. "I was hoping you would wear it to the Masquerade…"

"Oh, I will, Sarah. Thank you."

_Author's Note:_

_All riiiiiiiight here is chapter seven... Why not have Christine's dress made by Sarah?_

_I thought it was a great idea. Any way, yesterday at Drama Club was our first full dress rehearsal, and I got SO hot... I was wearing an undershirt, a peasant blouse, a vest AND a cape in the bidder's scene... GAH_

_Review, follow, favorite... it fuels me!_

_(oh, and so do Oreos~)_


	8. Making a Wedding Dress

The next morning Sarah awoke and walked to her dresser. She put on her veil, pinning it in place, then opened the door to walk around the Opera House. As she turned to shut the door, she noticed a note tacked on it quite securely. Unpinning it, she found a dress pattern.

After looking over it, she determined it was a wedding dress. Why on earth would a ghost need a wedding dress? Sarah wondered, fondling the creased paper gently. Nevertheless, seeing as she had nothing to do, she decided to embark on the further, the Phantom informed Sarah that there was plenty of cotton, tulle and lace in the attic to complete the project.

"…and if there is anything else you require, please do leave me a note. O.G." Sarah finished reading to herself. Hitching up her skirt and retying her apron, she decided to get to work. Retrieving the large roll of lace made for quite a journey. Sarah was not small, actually rather tall for her age, but the roll was rather awkward and she almost fell down the stairs.

Finally, on the fourth of seven staircases, (a number which Sarah was now definitely doubting to be lucky) she removed her shoes and made the rest of the way barefoot. Upon reaching the bottom, she returned for her shoes. However, as she made the return trip, she found the roll of lace missing. After several minutes of panicked frenzy, Sarah located the roll again in her room.

A few hours later, deep into the night, Sarah was sewing away. She was tired, of course, but she could see how beautiful this dress was going to turn out, and she wanted to finish it… yawning, her needle fell from her fingers and the dress slid to the floor.

When the Phantom emerged from Sarah's mirror, (a swap from the one in Miss Daae's dressing room as Sarah was hunting for tulle) he found the young seamstress fast asleep on the desk. Her veil still hid her face, and he began to think.

What if this wasn't the same Seamstress he had sent notes to? Perhaps one of the other younger ones had been cured of her hysterics and frenzy for romance… if only he could see her face! But perhaps she was homely and self conscious about her appearance. Perhaps some new religion, a custom… dwelling on how the removal of his mask nearly upset the friendship between Christine and himself, he walked back through the mirror, first picking up the dress and placing it back on the desk.

_ Author's Note Ahahaha you were probably on the edge of your seat, imagining Erik removing the veil… but nope! *grins* Can we all nominate Savannah White for sainthood? Good, good? It's unanimous then… I always love new readers, so review, follow, favorite, message me with any ideas (particularly names) and send me LOTS of Oreos!_


	9. The Visitor

*look at end of chapter for French translations*

When Sarah woke up, she blushed as she realized she had fallen asleep with the dress. Relocating her needle, she sat it down and then searched the contents of the basket. She found a lump of cheese and some bread and began to eat, grateful for Monsieur Andre's generosity.

Deciding to take a break, she began to walk the halls of the Opera, running her hands along the railings like a child. Suddenly she heard a knock at the door. She jumped. The knocking continued.

"Hello?" Someone called. Taking a deep breath, Sarah opened the door, on the step stood a young man. He had a box (probably for donations) in one hand and held his cap in another. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes. He wore a nice vest and shirt, but his trousers hung almost three centimeters above his ankles.

_"Bonjour. L'opéra est fermé, il serait sage de partir maintenant._" Her French was poor, preferring to speak in Danish, but the boy looked very French.

_"Pourquoi êtes-vous ici?"_ The boy asked, but not rudely. He seemed actually curious.

_"Laissez maintenant._" Sarah advised once again.

The boy turned around to leave, then stopped. _"Quel est votre nom?"_ He asked.

"Sarah." She replied quickly, shutting the door. Feeling her breath catch, she looked out the peephole.

The boy was leaving now, somewhat reluctantly. Sighing, she returned to the dress. It was coming along nicely. The lace spread over the sleeves and waist was a perfect addition. Pinning it, she hummed to herself.

Meanwhile, the Phantom was waiting. He had seen Sarah with the boy. It wasn't as though he loved Sarah. Christine had stolen that place in his shriveled heart. But he followed the boy anyway, for he knew the boy would tell, and someone would take his Seamstress away. He followed the boy through the dark alleys of Paris, until he came to a rather large house.

The boy entered, and Erik could hear a conversation through the windows.

_"Je vous jure, il ya une fille là-bas! Quelqu'un lui vient de quitter, nous devons aider!" _

_"C'est ridicule." _

_"S'il vous plaît, père ..." _

_"Je vais appeler un orphelinat. Maintenant, allez et mettre des pantalons propres. Je trouve cela dégoûtant vous aller collecter de l'argent pour certains rat de rue."_

Erik's fist tightened around the rope he held. He knew what he had to do.

Author's Note 1) Good morning. The opera is closed, it would be wise to leave now.

2) Why are you here, then?

3) Leave now.

4) What is your name?

5) It is true, there is a girl there! Someone left her there! We need to help her!

6) That is ridiculous.

7) Please, father.

8) I will call an orphanage. Now, go and change into some proper trousers. I find it disgusting you would collect money for some street rat.

Anyway, here is chapter nine! Sorry for no update yesterday, the school's computer was being rude to me. Last Friday before my school's show! Review!


	10. You Have Been Warned

Lucas whistled as he picked up his bag. He was delivering papers, a routine he followed nearly every morning. He particularly liked delivering papers to a Monsieur Andre. He was very nice, occasionally giving Lucas a biscuit to eat.

This morning, he happened to pass the said Monsieur while he was waving papers in an attempt to attract customers.

_"Bonjour, Monsieur André. Voulez-vous acheter un journal?" _

_"Quelles sont les nouvelles aujourd'hui?"_ Andre replied, smiling slightly.

Lucas smiled broadly at the old gentleman. _"Un homme et son fils, retrouvé pendu. Le tueur en série en cavale, monsieur!"_ To Lucas' surprise, Andre did not smile, or act disgusted. He merely pressed a few francs into Lucas' hand.

_"Envoyer un journal de l'Opéra Populaire. Laissez-le sur l'étape, dépêchez-vous!"_ Lucas nodded, speeding off towards the Opera.

When Sarah opened the door to sweep out the dust, she noticed a newspaper on the front step. Curious, she picked it up, her sweeping forgotten. As she unfolded it, she gasped. On the front cover was the boy she had seen just yesterday! Hanged to death… She gasped slightly. The Phantom…surely he had killed him. "But why?" she asked out loud, crying slightly.

Suddenly Erik stepped out from the mirror in the corner of the large sitting room. Sarah quickly swept the dust onto the newspaper.

"Were you crying?" Erik asked. He was somewhat concerned. If she had gone mad, stuck in the Opera, she would be of no use.

"Yes sir…I got a bit of dust in my eye, nothing to be worried about." Sarah let out a deep breath as the Phantom disappeared once more. It had been a close call. As Erik left the sitting room, he sat at his organ.

He had needed to kill the boy and his father. If he hadn't, his whole plan would have gone astray. Surely Sarah would understand. _Of course she wouldn't._ Erik thought to himself. _I can't tell her. She won't find out._

But Sarah knew exactly what had happened. She knew anyone who came to see her was in danger. So as she returned the basket the next day, she left a note in it for Monsieur Andre.

Monsieur Andre was fretting. Surely the hanging was someone else. The Phantom was dead, and gone. But what if it wasn't? He was still fretting as he retrieved Sarah's basket from the porch. He was perplexed to find a piece of parchment inside. Putting on his glasses, he read it.

_ "Kære Monsieur Andre, Jeg er ked af at sige din mistanke er korrekte. Han er her. At drengen havde mødt mig, da han gik rundt indsamle penge. Jeg syr for ham nu. Jeg beder jer om ikke at blande sig, da han ikke vil tøve med at dræbe dig så godt. Please, sir. -Sarah."_

Monsieur Andre did not understand Danish, but he did know that the girl had to be terrified if she was writing in her native tongue. So he raced home at once, found a Danish to French dictionary and translated it. "Oh, Sarah. Poor child."

_Author's Note _

_ Aria: Yup. Whovian here, three cats. _

_TRANSLATIONS: 1: (French) Good morning, Monsieur Andre. Would you like to buy a newspaper? _

_2: (French) What's the news today? _

_3: (French) A man and his son, found hanged. A serial killer on the loose, sir! _

_4: (French) Send a newspaper to the Opera Populaire. Leave it on the porch, hurry! _

_5: (Danish) Dear M. Andre, I am sad to say your suspicions are correct. He is here. The boy had met me when he went around collecting money. I sew for him now. I ask you not to interfere, as he will not hesitate to kill you as well. Please, sir. -Sarah _

_Here you go, guys, Chapter Ten. I tried to make this one long, to commemorate the tenth chapter… do you like the translation things? I'm trying to teach myself French. Review, follow, favorite, send oreos and any unwanted pocky you have lying around._


	11. The Stagehand Returns

Sarah was interrupted once again by yet another knock on the door. Sighing loudly, she opened the door a crack.

_"S'il vous plaît laissez, l'Opéra est fermé." _

_"Madame, c'est la police. Nous avons ici un fauteur de troubles qui auraient séjourné ici." _

Gasping, Sarah opened the door the rest of the way to see three constables holding a boy by the scruff of his neck. "_Bonjour Sarah, je suis de retour!" _

"_Richard! Åh Richard, jeg fortalte dig, at de ville finde dig!_" Thanking the Constables, Sarah brought Richard inside, yelling at him in Danish.

Richard, like Sarah, had been apprenticed, she to the Costumes, he to the props. However, after Buquet's death, Richard had run, leaving Sarah behind.

_(Flashback)_

"Richard…" Sarah cried softly as mass hysteria errupted in the background. "Please don't go…"

Richard was all ready to go, his pack slung over his shoulder. He already had one leg out the window. "I have to go, Sarah. I can't stay here."

Sarah grabbed his arm, and he struggled to keep his balance. "Richard, please don't go! I'll be alone, you're the only other apprentice!"

Richard yanked his arm free. "I'm sorry, Sarah." Then, with one fluid motion, he kissed Sarah on the forehead. As she stumbled back, shocked, Richard departed into the night.

Author's Note: Here you are, guys. Chapter eleven, and a new character! What do you think? Do you guys like Richard? How will the Phantom react? Find out next time! TRANSLATIONS:

1 (French) Please leave, the opera is closed.

2 (French) Ma'am, it is the police. We have a troublemaker here who should have stayed here.

3 (French) Hello, Sarah! I'm back!

4 (Danish) Richard! Oh Richard, I told you not to leave! I told you they'd find you!


	12. In Which Richard is Confronted

Sarah held the lantern high as she showed Richard to what would be his room. "Here, this was Piangi's old dressing room." Richard opened the door began to observe his surroundings.

"Sarah…" he began.

"Yes?"

"Why are you wearing a veil?" Richard asked, his hand trailing up to the black gauze.

Jumping back, Sarah placed her hand on her veil protectively. "That is my business." She replied quite curtly.

Sarah returned to her dressing room, sewing up the hem of the dress. She only had a few centimeters left… suddenly she heard screaming coming from Richard's room. Picking up her skirts, she ran to the door and tried it, but it was locked fast.

"RICHARD!" She screamed, reverting back to Danish, "_Åh så lad ham gå! Han er min ven, du kan ikke dræbe ham, Monsieur Phantom! Åh, ikke dræbe ham! Venligst! RICHARD!_"

The screams stopped, and the door swung open. Running to her friend's side, she relaxed as she heard his breath. "_Forblive stærke, bedes du ... Hold vejrtrækning, holde om leve..."_ Richard coughed, and then sat up slowly with the assistance of Sarah, who was still crying and speaking rapid-fire Danish.

_"Fransk tak, Sarah."_

Once Sarah had calmed down and Richard could breathe normally, Richard began to explain what had happened.

He attempted to speak in Danish, but he fell over his words and instead switched back to his French, which was better, but he was British and therefore better at English. His Danish was coming along nicely though, Sarah noted.

_"Je mettais juste mes affaires là, quand tout d'un coup,"_ Sarah nodded slightly, expecting a long sentence. "_…j'ai entendu cette voix, me demandant ce que je pensais que je faisais, et qui j'étais, et je réponds: «Je suis ici pour prendre soin de mon ami,» car qui étais-je être en cours au sujet de mon buisness,_"

_"Richard, Si modeste."_ Sarah rolled her eyes slightly.

_"…et il me demande tout gentil qui était mon ami, et je dis «Sarah Eklund», puis il saute de nulle part et attrape mon épaule, en essayant de mettre la main sur mon cou et j'ai commencé à crier d'une tempête-" "Oui, tempête." "… et puis il m'a eu et m'a presque tué et puis vous ont montré et m'a sauvé! Mince, je souhaite que je pourrais avoir connu ce que vous avez dit en danois comme ça, le faire disparaître! Hey, vous n'êtes pas une sorcière, vous êtes, Sarah?" _

_"Non, pas une sorcière…"_

"Who was it?" Richard demanded.

Sarah took a breath.

"The Opera Ghost, he is here still, hiding. I am sewing for him." She stood up, taking Richard by the shoulder. "But don't make him mad at you, Richard! Don't you dare!"

Richard looked at his feet. "I won't," he replied in English.

Sarah turned her head. "_qu'avez-vous dit?_"

_"Oui."_

Author's Note: SO MANY TRANSLATIONS BUT SO WORTH IT

Okay, here we go… 1

: (Danish) "Oh let him go! He's my friend, you can not kill him, Monsieur Phantom! Oh, do not kill him! Please! RICHARD! "

2: (Danish) Stay strong, please ... Keep breathing, keep on living ... "

3: (Danish) French, thank you, Sarah…

4: (French)I was just minding my own business, when suddenly…

5: (French) "... I heard this voice, asking me what I thought I was doing and who I was, and I say," I'm here to take care of my friend, "because who was I to be going on about my business,

6: (French) Richard, how modest.

7: (French) "... And he asked me who was my good friend, and I say" Sarah Eklund, "and he jumps out of nowhere and grabs my shoulder, trying to get their hands on my neck and I started screaming up a storm-"

8: (French) Yes, a storm.

9: (French) "... And then he was there with me and almost killed me and then you have shown and saved me! Gosh, I wish I could have known what you said in Danish like that, make him disappear! Hey, you're not a witch, you, Sarah? "

10: (French) No, not a witch,

11: (French) What did you say?

Okay, so I typed in "Blimey" and google translated it to Mince, and I now know Mince does not mean Blimey. So I changed it to Gosh.

*puts on sunglasses* DEAL WITH IT

Hope the longness of this chapter makes up for the shortness of the last. Let's hear it for Richard and his French!


	13. A Friendship is Formed

Sarah hugged Richard rather tightly as he agreed. "Oh thank goodness."

Suddenly, in one quick motion, Richard flipped up Sarah's veil. Gasping, she jumped back, giving Richard enough time to drop his jaw. She pulled the veil back down.

"_Je suis tellement désolé. Je ne voulais pas que vous voyiez ça! Laissez-moi, Richard!"_

Richard only stepped back, gulping air like a fish. Here was the girl he had loved… but she was so terribly ugly now, it took him back.

Fleeing to her room, Sarah lay on her bed, sobbing. She had loved Richard, and now he saw her face. The scars had healed so terribly jagged, leaving large raised welts on her face… No wonder Richard was shocked.

Meanwhile, Erik was in his lair, still repairing the mess the mob had made as they searched for him many months ago. He was waiting for the wedding dress. Only then would HIS Christine be perfect… oh, his Christine; untouched by the Vicomte, untouched by the world, formed by his hands.

Of course, his Christine was only a wax figure. She had no voice, and her eyes were only glass, unseeing. But she was a proxy for the real Christine, so long ago.

Shaking his head slightly to clear his reminiscing, he returned to the thought of the wedding dress. Sarah should have it done by now. Starting through the mirror to her room, he heard her sobbing.

_Was she still upset about that boy? I didn't know he was a former stagehand, or Sarah's friend for that matter… I thought he was going to take her away. _Erik was just a bit worried. Stepping from the mirror, he spoke to Sarah. _ "Je suis désolé de presque tué votre ami. Je pensais qu'il était ici pour vous nuire. Est-ce pour cela que tu pleures?"_

Sarah raised her head. _"Non, il a découvert un terrible secret que je voulais cacher."_

Erik sighed. "I'm sorry for that. I understand how you must feel."

Sarah wiped tears from her cheeks, careful not to upset the veil. "How can you understand? You're a ghost, the Phantom of the Opera, a murderer and an ANIMAL!" she was shrieking now, not even caring, hating everyone and everything.

The Phantom's voice was calm. "You were there, during Don Juan Triumphant, yes?"

Sarah stopped shrieking. "I was. I was backstage... and I heard you had killed Piangi, and-"

"Forget the killing, what else did you hear?" Erik was demanding now, almost pleading.

"Nothing." Sarah concluded. "I... Reyer sent me to comfort Senora Carlotta and..."

Erik raised a hand shakily towards his mask. "I too have a terrible secret, Miss Eklund. A secret I was tormented for." Reaching out and grabbing Sarah's wrists, he raised them to his mask. "Do it." he whispered.

And Sarah, poor, naive Sarah, reached her hand out and almost removed it. Almost...

_"__Sarah! Sarah! Sarah, je suis tellement désolé pour tout. S'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi, je n'aurais pas levé la voile."_ That was Richard, knocking on the door.

_So, the stagehand lifted her veil. _Erik mused, looking at Sarah, who seemed mesmerized, her hand still trailing up to the mask.

The door opened, and Richard tumbled in. Seeing the Phantom's hands around Sarah's wrists, he grabbed the knife out of the wheel of cheese in Sarah's basket. _"Lâcher maintenant elle! Je n'hésiterai pas à vous attaquer!"_

"No! Richard!" Sarah swung around, grabbing Richard's arms and pinning them to his sides. "Richard, Monsieur Phantom means no harm to me!" Taking a deep breath, as she knew she was walking a treacherous road, she ventured as far to say, "Monsiuer Phantom is my friend, Richard."

"Erik."

"What?" Sarah looked at the Phantom, who stood tall now.

"You may call me Erik, Miss Eklund." and just like that, he was gone.

_Author's Note_

_Sorry for no upload, my school's performance of PHANTOM was this weekend. Rocked it! :D I just keep toying with you, will Sarah ever see what lies behind the mask? Or will Erik see Sarah's secret first? HMMMMMM?_

_Review, favorite, follow, send oreos, review, etc._

_(Did I mention review?)_

_DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW_

_1) (FRENCH) I'm so sorry. I did not want you to see it! Leave me, Richard!_

_2) (FRENCH) I'm sorry I almost killed your friend. I thought he was here to hurt you. Is that why you're crying?_

_3) (FRENCH) No, he discovered a terrible secret that I wanted to hide._

_4) (FRENCH) Sarah! Sarah! Sarah, I'm so sorry for everything. Please forgive me, I should not have lifted the veil._

_5) (FRENCH) Release her now! I will not hesitate to attack you!_


	14. Erik's Solemn Vow

Sarah stared at the mirror that the Phantom- no, Erik- had disappeared through. "Perhaps he really is a ghost," she remarked quietly.

Richard, completely oblivious to what had happened before, quickly embraced Sarah protectively. "Sarah, I am so sorry I lifted your veil like that… no matter what, I love you."

Sarah returned the embrace, words failing her. "I…thank you…Richard…I…" she swallowed, holding back tears of joy. "I love you too."

Erik watched it all from his mirror. _So, it is happening again. _He thought bitterly. _Every girl is the same. How could she do this? I gave her my trust, and she falls in love._ Glancing at his waxen Christine, he dropped to his knees in anger.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm afraid the dress won't come…"

But Sarah had finished the dress, and it lay now on her bed, the stark whiteness of it contrasting the dark room. "Monsieur Erik?" she called, her small voice echoing in the room. She didn't know if he had heard her. So she placed the dress onto her desk and fell asleep.

When Erik returned that night to check on the dress, sure it would never be done, he was mildly surprised to find it finished. Carefully picking it up, he left in its place a note, with a death's head for a seal, and a single rose with a black satin ribbon.

He then returned to his lair, placing the dress onto his Christine. She was so beautiful, so pure and innocent. The dress fit her perfectly, and each pearl held the light from the candelabras so fully that it seemed to make her an angel.

Oh yes, that's what she was: an angel, but only by proxy. How he missed his real Christine; or, as he reminded himself sadistically, Raoul's Christine now.

Tearing his gaze longingly away from Christine, he tightened his fists. He had let one person fall away from his life. He would not let this gifted young seamstress be taken away from him. She would stay here until her twenty-first birthday, and that was far away.

Of course, Erik also thought Monsieur Andre wouldn't do everything in his power to rescue Sarah.

Erik was hardly ever wrong, but for once, he was.

Guiles Andre had a plan.

_Author's Note_

_So… Monsieur Andre returns, to attempt to save Sarah!_

_Speaking of Andre, he'll be getting a character tag soon, along with Firmin. We need more Andre and Firmin in the fanfics. MOOOORE MONSIEURS MOOOOOORE_

_Send Oreos and reviews, my dear Friendly Friends!_

_-ATLK_


	15. Richard Fluff and an Imbecile

_Author's Note_

_So… apparently you guys hate Richard, soooo here's some fluff with Richard! Yay!_

_Also, I realized that I never described what Sarah looked like…. So, there's some of that in here too._

Sarah sat on her bed, smiling as Richard braided her hair. His hands were nimble, the effect of forming hundreds of props and sets during his apprenticeship.

"There," Richard tied off the braid with a ribbon.

Sarah looked at herself in the mirror and laughed. "I look like Ana with a veil." The thick brown braids hung out from the black gauze, looking rather out of place.

Richard laughed too, putting his hands on her shoulder. "It's not that bad!"

Ana was one of the other costume mistresses, a fat woman who had a voice like a cat who had been stepped on, a woman Sarah and Richard both openly despised.

FLASHBACK

"Miss Eklund!" Reyer bellowed, his voice piercing the silence. Sarah quickly hitched up her dull orange skirt, running onstage, tripping over Ana's outstretched foot.

Getting up, she tried to hide the blush forming over her cheeks as the ballet girls laughed quietly. "Yes, Monsieur Reyer?" She asked, smoothing her flyaway bun.

"Senora Carlotta was about to deliver a private rendition of 'Think of Me,'" Reyer said rather impatiently.

"Oh, the scarf!" Sarah said, running offstage once again, checking the prop table… it wasn't there. Sighing, she ran to Carlotta's dressing room, where she found it on the dresser.

She retrieved it, running back before handing it triumphantly to Carlotta, who gave Sarah a slightly confused look, and took it as the opening notes sounded for Think of Me.

But Sarah wasn't listening, instead she turned to Ana. "Why wasn't the scarf on the prop table?" she hissed, leering in close to her pudgy face.

"It's a costume." She replied.

"No, it is a prop, as Hannibal uses it as well!" Sarah explained, her fists clenched. "We've been through this!"

"I'm your senior, you insufferable child!" Ana spit, her three chins wobbling.

"Really?" Sarah replied dryly, her eyes flashing. "I'd be surprised, but I could-"

Suddenly Carlotta screamed, and Sarah turned to see a set fall behind her. Pushing through the crowd, she saw Carlotta lying on the ground, crying hysterically. "Senora!" she cried, running to her side.

Sure, she despised the woman, but the last thing she needed was to be demoted to the kitchens or somewhere like that.

Carlotta pushed Sarah away, and so she turned to Ana, who was staring dumbly. "Go get a chair!"

END FLASHBACK

Richard reached onto Sarah's desk, where he picked up some pins. "I'll pin it up," he replied.

Sarah sat quietly as her braids were pinned onto the top of her head; his warm hands making Sarah feel safe.

Oh, she missed feeling safe. Even at the Opera, she didn't always feel safe. She had been born into a terrible family, a drunken father and a sickly mother. She sighed slightly, and Richard stopped. "What?" he asked.

"I feel safe…" Sarah whispered. "I never feel safe."

Richard stopped pinning, letting his hands fall, and grasping Sarah's. "Then I'll stay."

Erik sat in his dungeon, his head in his hands. The seamstress was falling in love. No doubt they'd run off now. He turned to his Christine, who remained silent, but the dress. The dress was a reminder to him. The child was loyal, if anything.

_But is she too loyal to run? _He asked himself. _How loyal is she, really?_

Sarah put her head on Richard's shoulder, reminiscing of the times they had shared at the Opera House.

"We could run away again." Richard suddenly spoke, his voice shattering the silence. "Together, and we could start a family, and we'd never have to come back to this haunted place ever again."

Sarah turned her head slightly, the veil now enveloping Richard's shoulder. "I… I don't know."

_Author's Note_

_Alright, any changed feelings? And yes, Ana is based off a real person, the girl who played the other Costume Mistress in the play. She's an incompetent fool… -n-_

_Read, review, follow, favorite and send oreos, my friendly friends._

_-ATLK_


	16. Andre's Plan and Erik's Rebuttal

Monsieur Andre was not a coward. He was many things, but he was not a coward. It was this thought that ran through his mind as he paced around, waiting for the police.

A knock interrupted his patterned thoughts and he waved his hand, letting the maid know to answer the door.

The Constables arrived in his office a few minutes later, being directed by a rather frightened looking maid.

_"Merci d'être venu ici. Nous avons une situation assez grave. Vous vous souvenez du Fantôme de l'Opéra?" _Andre asked, lacing his fingers nervously.

One of the younger constables held back a snort. "Yes, the one we failed to capture?"

Andre gave him an icy look. "This is serious, there is a child-possibly two children- being tortured by this same madman."

_"Monsieur si vous me le permettez-" _A blonde officer asked, receiving a nod. _"Pourquoi les enfants de l'Opéra?"_

"A foolish tradition," Andre remarked bitterly, causing all the men to look a bit confused. "Miss Eklund and Monsieur Baylor were both apprenticed to the Opera House." He added. Getting up, the maid passed him his cane. "Now, I have a few matters to attend to, Gentlemen."

With that, the Constables left, and Monsieur Andre got a fresh basket with a few biscuits and a note.

Sarah hummed merrily as she swept the front hall. How it got so dirty without anyone using it, she didn't know. But as she started to sweep the dust out, she noticed a basket on the steps.

She mentally recounted the days in her head. No, it wasn't Wednesday. Had Monsieur Andre gotten confused?

Picking up the basket, she dropped by Richard's room to continue her sweeping. Once Richard finished his share of the chores (washing floors) he stopped by his room and looked at the basket.

_Sarah must have dropped it here, _he thought, examining the contents. Some biscuits and a note. It had his name on it, so he read it.

_Monsieur Baylor and Miss Eklund_

_I have told the authorities of you plight, and they will be sending hope soon to end the reign of the madman haunting your lives. Do not lose hope._

_Monsieur G. Andre_

Richard did what any other boy would have done.

He tattled.

"Monsieur Phantom!" he called. "Monsieur Erik!"

Erik did arrive, with distaste at seeing Richard.

"Here, Monsieur," he said, daring no longer to use the name. "You are in terrible danger."

Erik read the note, fury boiling in his veins. "How dare they!" he turned to Richard, his eyes flashing. "Who did you tell?" he demanded.

Richard backed away. "No one! I told no one!"

Sarah heard the commotion, running to find Richard and Erik. "I told!" she screamed, and Erik stopped his approach towards Richard. "I told Monsieur Andre!" she cried, tears flowing down her cheeks, wetting her veil. "I… I…"

She was cut off as Erik grabbed her wrist, dragging her through the mirror.

Richard attempted to follow, but he hit hard glass instead of the portal that Sarah and Erik had traveled through. He sunk to his knees, sobbing against the mirror.

When the Constable arrived just seconds later, they found the stagehand in a fit of hysterics.

"Are you Richard Baylor?" The blonde officer asked. Richard answered with a pitiful nod. "Where is Sarah Eklund?"

Richard's words were muffled by his hands. "_Elle est partie. Le fantôme lui a."_

_Author's Note_

_Ohhh so much fun to write. *ignores sobs from audience*_

_Anyway, thanks to my new reviewer! *hugs*_

_Baylor is Richard's last name, in case the several references didn't point that out._

_I intend to finish this, and the end is soon!_

_TRANSLATIONS:_

_1: (French) "Thank you for coming here. We have a pretty serious situation. Do you remember the Phantom of the Opera? "_

_2: (French) "Sir, if I may, why are there children at the Opera?_

_3: (French) She is gone. The Phantom has her!_

Review, favorite, follow and send oreos, my lovely friendly friends!

-ATLK


	17. A Dislocated Shoulder

Erik dragged a sobbing Sarah through the dark and twisting path to his lair. "I thought you were different!" He yelled at her as she tried to jerk away. "But you weren't! Just another girl, you fall in love and BETRAY me!"

Sarah pulled rather hard and screamed in pain as she felt her right shoulder pop out of place.

Erik ignored this, or perhaps didn't notice as he dragged her into a boat, forcing her into the front. He began to guide the boat as Sarah sobbed into the deck, feeling each pain three times what it was.

"I shouldn't have left that note for Andre." Sarah turned herself, so she was now facing Erik. "It was just a note, and I asked him not to interfere!"

"Of course he'd have interfered; he wouldn't have left a child to the hands of a madman!" Erik shot back, grabbing her left arm and dragging her into the deepest part of his lair, a secluded, dark room with only one door. Throwing her in, he locked it, leaving her alone.

Sarah sat in the darkness, her shoulder throbbing and her heart in pieces. She had to get the shoulder back into socket. Her shoulder had dislocated before, once when her drunken father attacked her.

She rotated her arm so that it faced away from her and stuck it out to the side. She rotated it slowly upwards, and then raised it. It didn't work the first time, so she brought it up again, and screamed as the shoulder slid into place along with excruciating pain, but then relief.

She sighed in relief, and then began to get her breathing under control.

Meanwhile, the Officers were trying to get back into the Phantom's lair. The entrance that Madame Giry and the Vicomte had used before was now blocked, and the mirror remained as solid as ever.

_"Continuez à regarder! Nous devons trouver une entrée!" _The head constable, Monsieur Abel, ordered the others after yet another failed search. "How's the stagehand doing?" he asked one officer, a man named Babinaux.

_"Parler encore anglais, monsieur. Nous ne savons pas ce qu'il dit. Je pense qu'il est en état de choc." _Babinaux scratched his head. "I picked up on a few words though, I think he was in love with Miss Eklund."

Abel went to see Richard, who was currently in his room, muttering things in English. Abel could see his eyes were red from crying.

"_Avez-vous l'aimez?" _he asked Richard, who nodded.

"Oui," Richard replied, his eyes filling up with tears again. He began yelling in English again, and Abel had no idea what he was saying.

"Don't worry, we'll find her." He told Richard in French.

_Author's Note_

_Nearing the end, my friendly friends! Send reviews, love and Oreos!_

_TRANSLATIONS:_

_1: (French) Keep looking! We must find an entry!_

_2: (French)_ _Still speaking English, sir. We do not know what he says. I think he's in shock._

_3: (French) Do you love her?_

_-ATLK_


	18. Saviors and Missing Veils

_((Five Days Later))_

Abel paced the floor nervously. He had told Richard he would find the girl, and he truly wished to, but he had no way of getting into the lair.

Monsieur Andre burst into the Opera, coming to Abel. "Have you found her?" he asked, out of breath. Abel shook his head, and Andre began to wring his hands nervously. "Can't you break through the floor?"

Abel's eyes lit up. "Permission, sir?"

Andre nodded. "Anything. We have already lost too much to this 'Phantom.'"

Sarah sat quietly in her dungeon, heaving with dry sobs. _Jeg har brug for at stoppe med at græde. Det vil gøre noget godt, hvis jeg dør af dehydrering._ She thought to herself, curling into a ball.

Erik paced angrily in his lair. He had trusted her! Now there were constables trampling upstairs, searching for a way into his lair. He had blocked the way Madame Giry and the Vicomte had taken before, and they weren't getting through the mirror, but it was only so long before…

He frowned as a trickle of dirt fell onto his organ.

He looked up, and his eyes widened as a crack appeared in his 'ceiling.' He grabbed his organ music and raced towards Sarah's cell, throwing open the door.

"Go!" he yelled at her.

Sarah did not move.

"They're breaking through the ceiling, go!" He yelled at her again.

Sarah still did not move, and did not acknowledge his presence. He grabbed her wrist, as though to pull her along, but it hung limply in his disfigured hand.

He gasped.

Surely he had killed her.

He held her wrist, and sighed as he found a pulse; a weak but steady pulse.

He needed to get water into her. He judged the breaking of the ceiling would take several hours. He had time.

Erik fetched a jug of water, then moistened a cloth so that it dripped a bead of water steadily.

He reached for black gauze, removing it from her head…

He gasped.

She was disfigured too.

A long jagged scar ran from her eyebrow to her jaw, passing through an unseeing eye. Several smaller scars crossed her nose and cheeks. One scar had obviously healed wrong, resulting in a twisted upper lip. Subconsciously he traced the largest scar. Someone had done this to her, a sweet innocent child. Then he starved and imprisoned her!

He carefully opened her mouth, letting the water drip in. Every so often he would gently massage her throat so the water would be swallowed.

He had almost killed her.

The words stung like the whips he used to bear, like spikes tearing at his torso.

He had almost killed the Costume Mistress.

He continued the act for almost an hour, until she had drank the entire pitcher. He heard a board clattering to the floor. He needed to hurry.

Wrapping his cloak about him, he escaped deeper into the catacombs, leaving the still unconscious Sarah behind. But in his hands he tightly held something to remember her by; the veil.

Abel grinned as the hole became large enough for the men to drop through.

One by one the men climbed down the rope, each holding a pistol in case they met the man.

One of the men, McPike, called out loudly. "Monsieur Abel, I've found her!"

Abel took the girl in his arm, gasping at the scars. He climbed back up the ladder carefully, with help from McPike. He called to Richard, who came running.

"She's been down there without food or water for days, so she'll have to see a Doctor." Abel advised, looking down at the unconscious child.

Richard nodded, tears running down his face.

When Sarah awoke from her dehydrated coma, she felt her face for the veil. "Where is it?" she called hoarsely.

The Doctor's wife entered. "You stop that yelling. You're dehydrated and yelling won't help."

Sarah lay back down, hearing a soft clink of metal on metal. She felt something around her neck. It was a locket. She opened it, and a small piece of parchment fell out.

_Sarah_

_I took your veil. I must go into hiding now, and I am sorry for all._

_Erik_

((ONE WEEK LATER))

Sarah sat with Emily the maid in Monsieur Andre's house. It was admittedly a bit awkward accepting Monsieur Andre's offer to allow them to stay, but Sarah and Richard both eagerly accepted. In return, they worked along with Emily.

Today was the first day she was to work, and she was now on her lunch break. Everything was going fine until Emily brought up the Phantom.

Emily looked eagerly at Sarah. "Did you ever see his face?" she asked, her voice almost at a whisper.

Sarah shook her head. "No." the new grey veil made a slight rustling noise.

Emily grinned. "Because I hear he's got the face of a devil!"

"What do you mean by that?" Sarah asked nonchalantly, (or at least in tones of what she hoped was) hands in her lap. Emily had not been told of her deformity, instead being told it was a tradition in her family.

"He hasn't got a nose, and his jaw bones… you can see them! Part of his lip's missing too!"

Sarah gasped, but not from horror, as Emily suspected.

_Did he have pity on me because of that?_

Meanwhile, far away, Erik held her veil.

_If she learns, will she have pity on me?_

_Author's Note_

_TRANSLATIONS:_

_1(Danish) I need to stop crying. It will do no good if I die of dehydration._

_It's the end! Please review, and send the last of your oreos._

_I send special thanks to everyone that reviewed; namely Savannah White, RedDeathLVR, Spirit of the Opera and Rebecca (Guest)._

_I enjoyed writing this story, and feel free to check out my others._

_-ATLK_


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